Prev | Current Page 728 | Next

Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"The Garden of Allah"

Perhaps it would
be stronger, more sane, to face a more ordinary, less dreamy, life, in
which they would meet with people, in which they would inevitably find
themselves confronted with duties. She felt powerful enough in that
moment to do anything that would make for Androvsky's welfare of soul.
His body was strong and at ease. She thought of him going away with the
priest in friendly conversation. How splendid it would be if she could
feel some day that the health of his soul accorded completely with that
of his body!
"Batouch!" she called almost gaily.
Batouch appeared, languidly smoking a cigarette, and with a large flower
tied to a twig protending from behind his ear.
"Saddle the horses. Monsieur has gone with the Pere Beret. I shall take
a ride, just a short ride round the camp over there--in at the city
gate, through the market-place, and home. You will come with me."
Batouch threw away his cigarette with energy. Poet though he was, all
the Arab blood in him responded to the thought of a gallop over the
sands. Within a few minutes they were off. When she was in the saddle it
was at all times difficult for Domini to be sad or even pensive.


Pages:
716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740